The Way Itis Now Ch10
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CHAPTER TEN
Property
Eric stared at his tattoo, alone in the bathroom, in a state of utter
disbelief. He'd fled to the safety of the small room in a near panic
from the moment they arrived home. His shirt was on the floor along side
the plastic wrap that had been covering his new body modification, both
hastily removed, tossed there moments after he'd slammed the door to try
to escape Julia.
He held a hand mirror up to see his back reflected in the mirror over
the sink, to see the message permanently etched into his body. It made
sense now why Julia had helped the artist with the stencil. It really
was Julia's handwriting the artist had used, there was no mistaking it.
A lovely, feminine looking, cursive script in a bright red, looking
nearly identical to what Julia wore on her lips most days. It wouldn't
surprise him, at all, if the artist had made a point of trying to match
Julia's lip color to the ink she used on him. There was something almost
diabolical about that. It looked liked Julia had personally written on
his back with one of her lipsticks. He shook his head and read it over
and over again - "Property of Julia Grant". His body trembled at the
enormity of it. Property. He wanted to cry.
Tears welled up in his eyes as despair crawled in from every corner. He
steeled himself the best he could and got closer to the mirror, inching
up on the sink, repositioning the hand mirror for a better look. He
needed to really see it, up close, because it felt like it redefined him
somehow. It was more than a simple tattoo. It made him feel...
different.
He locked his eyes on it, fixedly staring until his vision started to
get peculiar from the strain. It was like he was trying to erase the
words off his back through force of will alone but it didn't go away. If
anything that first word felt like it was still leeching itself deeper
into his skin. Property. Had he become Julia's property? Not in the
strictest legal sense, of course, but if he couldn't stand up to her
wasn't it essentially true?
Eric fought back more tears and grit his teeth. How could he have
allowed this to happen? Why did he let Julia do this to him? His free
hand reached behind to the edge of the tattoo. The entire area was red
and inflamed. Gently, his fingers traced over her name. She did own him!
"Eric?!" Julia called through the door, rapping on it, startling him.
"Come on out. We need to talk."
His face twisted in annoyance. He just wanted to be left alone for
awhile to try to make some sense of what happened, to understand what it
meant. Now that he wore her stamp it meant something didn't it? Other
than the smug expression she wore the entire drive home, she had the
decency to leave him alone. Why not for the rest of the day? Why not-
The rap on the door came again, louder. "That's enough sulking and self-
pity! It's nonsense," Julia said. "I'm not putting up with it! Get out
here! Now!"
He did his best to calm down, took a deep breath, and eased open the
door.
Julia was standing mere inches away, poised like a model in her
stilettos, hands on hips, chest out, but visibly upset. She gestured for
him to come out, turned, and walked away towards the living room without
saying a word, fully expecting him to follow.
Wanting to cover the shame of the tattoo, he quickly retrieved his shirt
from the floor and slipped it on, buttoning it while stumbling over to
her.
"Sit down, Eric," she said, pointing to the couch.
He eased himself down nervously. Julia inched closer, arms folded, lips
pressed tightly together, making him feel uncomfortable. Towering
overhead in her stilettos, he felt almost childlike sitting there next
to her.
"How's your tattoo?" she asked smugly.
"It...", Eric wasn't sure how to respond. It seemed to be aching all the
more with her standing over him but he doubted she actually cared about
how cruel and painful it felt. "It still hurts," he said.
Julia cocked an eyebrow in mock surprise, one corner of her mouth
turning up in wry amusement. "I bet it does. You just had my name carved
into your back with needles. But, that's not what I'm asking you and you
know it," she said acidly. Bending forward slightly, she peered directly
into his eyes like she was trying to see into his dark recesses to
uncover whatever truth was hiding there. "It's a lot more than your
silly suggestion of getting your ears pierced. I want to know how you
feel about it?" she asked with more excitement and glee than seemed
reasonable.
He stared back at her for a moment and withered under the gaze of eyes
that seemed hungry to hear about his misery and scars. As much as he
didn't want to believe it, there seemed to be nothing left of the old
Julia at all. This version of her was someone to fear.
"It's on you - permanently," she reminded him with a mocking smile. "I
want to know what that did to you on the inside. How-do-you-feel?" The
words were measured, angry, her eyes steely hard.
"I-" he began, his mind then going blank. He reached behind himself
tentatively and pressed lightly at his back, wincing from the soreness
and pain.
Julia's smile ticked upwards in response.
He swallowed hard. The depth of the violation had cut deep, literally.
But, he still wanted her. He was getting stiff just sitting next to her
thinking about what was under that skirt, how close it was, what it
smelt like, what it felt like to service her there. As twisted and
perverse as it was, everything she had done to him made him want her
even more.
"Well?! Tell me! How-do-you-feel!?"
"I... I feel-" he started, then a shutter ran down his body. She marked
him as property! A thing! "I... feel... different."
"Different how, Eric?" she asked, unwilling to give him any place to
hide.
His eyes dropped to the hem of her skirt, wishing for all the world to
be satisfying the glorious treasure hiding behind the thin garment. The
thought sent a shiver up his weak spine. Her pussy was mere inches away.
He wanted to service her, worship at the seat of glorious womanhood.
"You... marked me," he said with a quaver.
Julia nodded with a sinister smile, reveling in the victory, her eyes
still hungry for more.
"I'm a less than...," he said shrugging sheepishly. "I'm not... your
equal. I'm not sure I'm even a proper man." The words came out thin,
weakly spoken as they strained their way out. Eric was drowning inside,
a part of him struggling to stay alive to keep from falling any deeper
under Julia's spell, but another part was dragging him under, ready,
even eager to submit. Julia was the female. She was a beautiful, erotic,
dominant, powerful woman. She was the boss. She had the pussy so she
made the rules. Why struggle against the reality of it? He had become a
piece of property to her, one she had simply decided to claim.
"Truth be told, you never really were my equal," she said dismissively.
"I just pretended you were for a while. I'm beginning to think most
women make that mistake with their men. Well, I'm done pretending."
"I don't want to fight with you," he said shaking his head fretfully.
"You win," the words came out so softly she almost didn't hear them.
"What did you say?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.
Eric looked up again with a sorrowful, jaw trembling, expression. "You
put your name on me... I just... why? Why mark me as your... property? I
need to know," he asked, touching the tattoo again.
Julia shrugged. "Aren't you?" she asked rhetorically.
He looked at her with a quivering jaw and blank expression.
"You're the one that asked to stay, Eric. I told you the price would be
serious but you wanted to stay anyway."
"But, I didn't think-"
"That's one of your problems - you don't think," she said cutting him
off. "Look, it doesn't matter. You accepted my authority; you said it
multiple times - loudly. I told you it was the new vow for our marriage!
You do remember that? Right?!"
Eric nodded pitifully, remembering the words he spoke.
"Then, you striped yourself and serviced me, on your knees, like a cheap
whore," she said emphasizing the words.
He nodded again as a shudder suddenly rippled through him from the shame
of it.
"A real man doesn't act like that now does he?" she asked with a mocking
tone.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"Well then, I guess you're not really a man," she said, the simple
conclusion wrenching his core. "You're obviously not a woman. Seems to
me, that makes you... more a pet of some kind," she said shrugging.
"Pets are owned. Why wouldn't I consider you my property then?" she
asked rhetorically, clearly enjoying the moment as a smile danced across
her lips. "Besides, there was a time when men used to consider their
wives chattel. You're a male in a female lead marriage. Turnabout is
fair play, don't you think?" She stared at him ominously as she thought
about Samantha's painting and the plight of women over the ages. "You're
my chattel," she suddenly said. "Anyway you look at it, you're more my
property than anything else."
Eric was too sullen to respond.
Julia was on a roll, she wanted to hurt him further. "Unless you prefer
another word, a bit too S&M for my tastes but I think it fits you just
as well - slave."
Eric winced. He could hardly believe what he'd just heard. Is that what
he was really becoming? Julia's slave!? A momentary wave of dizziness
suddenly enveloped him. He inhaled deeply to stave off the blackness
edging into the corners as his heart pounded away. A feeling of
lightheadedness and agitation remained in the wake of the wave but
worse, horrifically, his body began betraying him yet again with a
stiffening cock and deep sense of arousal. That Julia truly saw him as
her property, maybe even her slave, was somehow darkly erotic. That part
of him that wanted to press his lips to her feet was exhilarated beyond
reason and terrified at the same time. As perverse as it was, he wanted
her to use him however it pleased her, only hoping she wouldn't push him
too far, at least not too quickly.
"Did that answer your question?" she asked in a mocking tone.
He nodded and said nothing, hoping she couldn't see his excitement and
fear, preferring to look straight ahead at her skirt from where he sat,
imagining that he'd caught a whiff of her pussy, the scent now locked
into his brain forever thanks to his earlier submission and service to
her.
"Good. Wear my name on you with pride, Eric. And be grateful I gave you
a choice," she said. "I'm still tempted to take you back to get your
little cock head pierced sometime or your ears done like you asked.
Maybe I'll have them put another tattoo on you.
"Please don't," Eric pleaded.
"We'll see," Julia said with a shrug. "If you want to spare yourself the
needle then do what I say, when I say it. Learn your place. You're the
homemaker of the family now. That's what you are. Do your job and maybe
I won't have to punish you."
He nodded, accepting her terms.
Julia stared at him with disdain. Even as pathetic and weak as he was
she didn't think he'd let her put breasts on him, not yet anyway. She
had a little more work to do first. "Honestly, you need to rid yourself
of all that ugly male conditioning. It's not helpful. It's old, archaic,
retrograde thinking," she declared, looking at him intently. "If you
want to help yourself, you need to start thinking more like a woman.
Male thinking is all about dominating and winning and controlling. A
woman thinks more about sharing and supporting and nurturing. That's
especially true with home and family. It's simply a better way."
Eric looked up to her with a wrinkled forehead, befuddled.
"In fact, I think it'll help set your mind right if you start thinking
of yourself more as a woman," she said. "Think of it like role reversal.
I go out into the world to make the money and you take care of our home
and raise our children." Julia smiled mischievously, enjoying how
confused and lost he looked. She bent over, next to Eric's ear,
delightfully anticipating how deeply her next words would bruise his
fragile ego. "In case you're not quite getting this," she whispered,
"from your point of view that makes me the husband and you the wife."
His face went blank at Julia's pronouncement. Wife!? The word echoed in
his mind as he looked at the amusement on Julia's face. Everything just
seemed to be getting worse and worse. Not only did there seem to be no
hope of returning their marriage to normal, but she expected him to
start acting more like a woman and thought of him as the wife in their
marriage!? This couldn't stand! No! He took a deep breath and prepared
to defend some portion of what it meant to be a man. "Julia, I really-"
"Just stop, Eric. I don't even want to hear whatever nonsense you were
about to say. You need to get used to the idea. Wife. You're the wife,
the homemaker. And, when I have my baby, you'll get to be a mother too,"
she said. "It's going to be a lot easier for you after you embrace your
new status. Just be happy I'm not expecting you to wear a dress and
paint your lips for me," Julia added, thinking back to Samantha's
painting again.
Eric closed his mouth, nodding, afraid to say anything else, praying
inside that the last part wasn't some threat. Could she actually have
considered doing that? A dress?! Makeup?! How could she even suggest
it?! He tried to smile to appease her.
"Oh, by the way. Despite how you might feel about your tattoo I'm afraid
we're not finished with all of your punishments for today," she said.
"What?! I-"
"No," she said waving her hand at him, cutting him off. "You need to
learn, there are serious, long term, consequences for disobeying me."
Eric just stared at her, the soreness of his tattoo a reminder of how
callous she could be.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to confiscate a few things, for a little
while."
"Confiscate?"
"Well, I can't really ground you for what you did today but I can take
some things away for a time," she said matter-of-factly. "You were
planing to walk out on our marriage using my resources and my money to
do it. It only makes sense to take them away as part of your punishment.
I'm thinking a week, maybe two if you don't start shaping up."
Eric stared at her not knowing what to say.
"Everything - cash, credit cards, keys to your car... my other car I
mean. I'm going to need your cell phone too."
"My phone?!"
Julia glared at him, daring him to argue with her.
He stopped instantly. She had threatened to cancel the cards earlier,
even stop making payments on the car. After what she'd done to him with
the tattoo, there was little doubt she would follow through on the
threats.
"Would you like them now?" he asked contritely.
Julia smiled and slowly nodded as a smug look of victory danced across
her face.
Eric got up off the couch and began collecting everything Julia had
asked for. It only took a couple minutes to grab it all. The credit
cards and cash looked odd in his hand, almost alien, as he realized they
weren't really his anymore and, in truth, hadn't been for a long time.
All his financial freedom and power were Julia's to command. On a whim,
she could take it all away.
Trying not to dwell on it further, hands full, he walked over to Julia.
She smirked at Eric with amusement then nodded towards the coffee table,
her bright eyes filled with delight as he deposited everything on top of
it.
"You'll get it back in a week or two," she said, passing judgement,"if
you do your job at home that is."
"As a homemaker," he said, acknowledging his new station.
"That's right, Eric. Keep it in mind, at all times. That's what you are
now."
Eric nodded with troubled eyes.
"I knew you were trainable," she quipped.
Eric nodded again, pouting, looking pitiful and childlike, at the snub.
"Now, go get me a glass of wine," Julia said casually as she sat down on
the couch smiling, crossing her legs with a seductive elegance that made
Eric's cock pulse.
He trotted off towards the kitchen to do her bidding, trying to ignore
how servile and used he felt. He couldn't help but steal glances at her
while pouring her wine. Just sitting on the couch, Julia was gorgeous,
secure in her beauty and the power she had, confident, sublime. It was
thrilling just being in the same room with her but concerning too,
especially true now that he carried her mark. What might she be capable
of, he wondered?
"Hurry up, Eric," she called out impatiently.
His cock stiffened as he carried the glass of wine over to her. A shiver
went up his back handing it to her as one of her long nails lightly
grazed his finger in the exchange. He stood there just watching her sip
- moist, luscious red lips caressing the glass, mesmerizing him as she
enjoyed her triumphs of the day.
"Turn around," she said to him, swirling her finger in a circle. "I want
to see your tramp stamp."
With shame he turned around and lifted the back of his shirt to show
her, hands on either side of the garment, tightly clenching at the
fabric as he swallowed what little pride remained.
Suddenly, there was a flash and the sound of a picture being taken.
"Don't turn around, Eric!" she warned him.
He bit his lower lip anxiously. There was another flash. He began to
inch his shirt back down.
"Keep your shirt up! I want more pictures," she said. There was another
flash and another, followed by yet another.
He clenched his hands even tighter as the snaps continued, enough that
they began to quiver at the sides of the shirt.
"This isn't working! Take the shirt off!" she commanded. "Toss it on the
floor and cross your arms in front of you. I want an unobstructed view
of your cute little back."
He tugged the shirt off awkwardly and dropped it to his feet.
"That's better. Honestly, I can't think of a better tramp stamp for
you," she chuckled. "Now, cross your arms in front of you and stand
still. Your back is going to make perfect wallpaper for the phones," she
said as she clicked off another picture. "It'll tell everybody, at a
glance, who's phone it is - mine," she declared.
Eric grimaced at the prospect of seeing his tattooed back every time he
picked up his phone. It made losing it for a week or two easier at
least.
"Nice to have my name on all my property don't you think?" she teased.
"Yes," he replied softly.
"Almost sweet of you to still be using our anniversary for your
password," she commented as she took another picture with Eric's phone.
"Don't ever change it. In fact, don't change any of the settings on it
from now on, not without asking me first, especially the wallpaper, that
stays until I find something better."
Eric just nodded in agreement, too upset and violated to utter a word.
Somehow, he'd never considered she would take pictures of something so
deeply private between them, but this wasn't the woman he'd married, he
reminded himself. Of course, this Julia would take pictures. He should
have expected it, in fact. She could post the pictures online, send them
to friends, ruin him. Everything she did seemed to make him weaker and
more vulnerable.
"Okay, I think I have enough pictures. You can put your shirt back on,"
she finally said, tapping away on Eric's phone.
He quickly retrieved his shirt from the floor and slipped it on to hide
the tattoo.
"There," Julia said with a smile, clearly pleased by her efforts. She
turned the front of the phone towards Eric so he could see it.
Emblazoned across the screen was a closeup of his back, tilted so it ran
diagonally, lower left to upper right, corner to corner, using the words
on his back to declare that the phone, like him, was her property.
His shoulders sank. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
Julia was thrilled. Eric would never be quite the same after today. Of
course, it was just a small step in the overall plan, something to make
him more compliant and submissive. With any luck, the tattoo could be
used to help instill self-doubt too, maybe shatter that 'precious'
masculine identity. She smiled maliciously at the thought, deciding to
tear a hole in him.
"Why do you think you have that tattoo on your back?" she probed,
sneering.
Eric looked at her with dismay. "Because you put it there." he said,
trying to control his anger.
Julia shook her head slowly. "No, Eric," she said knowingly. "You have a
tramp stamp on you because you're weak... or maybe...", an amused smile
crept onto her lips before she continued, "you actually wanted it
there."
Eric's heart rate spiked at the implication, his cheeks started to burn,
the words cutting as deeply as the needles that had indelibly marked
him. He started shaking his head in denial, refusing to accept the idea.
How could she believe he wanted it?!
"You know it's true. Admit it to yourself."
"No," he said weakly, still shaking his head, still trying to dismiss
the idea outright. It couldn't be true. Wanted it?! No. No. No.
"It's sad watching you lie to yourself," she said, rolling her eyes,
smiling.
"No, you... you did this to me," Eric said, the accusation sounding more
hollow than convincing, his face red with shame and embarrassment.
"Believe what you want," she said, shrugging with indifference. Just
remember, I told you I had plans for you, plans that you'd hate." Julia
flashed a sinister smile at him as she imagined him releasing the panel
of a nursing bra with large, milk-laden nipples dripping with
nourishment for her daughter. "I told you I was going to change you too.
Know what? You're going to let me," she assured him. "Everything I want
is going to happen because you're not strong enough to stop me and
because, deep inside, a part of you wants it all to happen."
Eric shook his head miserably. He didn't want her to be right, not at
all right.
"Look at yourself, Eric. No real man would have allowed an ownership
tramp stamp to be put on him! Men don't get tramp stamps. Just accept
the truth of it - you're a submissive. You want a dominant woman telling
you want to do, maybe even need a woman telling you what to do," she
said firmly. She looked at him with a serene smile, wholly confident and
calm, her eyes smoldering with an erotic mysticism that virtually
demanded adoration. "Well, you found a dominant woman. Honestly, I think
you wanted to be marked so you couldn't deny what you were anymore."
Eric's head and neck were pounding. "Please...," the word came out in a
whisper, "Julia, please stop," the plea so quiet it was barely audible.
"No."
"Why not?" he asked pitifully, anguished at the refusal.
"Because you have a long way to go yet and it's only going to be harder
on you if you resist what I have in store for you," she said. "Life is
going to be so much better for you, once you finally give up all that
antiquated male thinking and simply accept your role in our marriage.
It's what you want in your heart of hearts anyway, Eric. Stop pretending
otherwise," she said.
Eric was feeling nauseous. He wanted to reject everything she said as
lies but couldn't. If there was even a seed of truth to it... Was there?
The very notion was noxious. Had his whole life been a lie?!
Julia pouted at him with indifference, watching him struggle, pleased at
her efforts. "Don't feel too bad, Eric. You just happened to be born
into the wrong gender at the wrong time," she said. "Men had their
chance. You blew it. The world is a complete mess because of men. It's
time for women to take over and lead.
"Take over?" he asked.
"Everything," she responded.
He looked at Julia and took her in, trying to see past his pain and
frustrations - beautiful, sensual, successful, and dominant. Despite
everything she'd done to him, he was still enthralled by her. He hated
to admit it but maybe Julia really was superior to him. He looked past
her then, to the wall beyond, suddenly feeling deeply inadequate and
unworthy of her.
"Everything will be easier for you once you accept your proper place,"
Julia said. "Embrace our marriage, the way it is now. It's far better
this way, with me in charge. Besides, it's the only way you get to keep
me in your life and let's be honest - you want me badly, it's written
all over your face."
Eric flashed her a weak smile, unable to deny the truth of it. She
stood, poised and confident, then walked away, hips swaying in those
marvelous stilettos she wore. Standing there, nearly motionless, he felt
left behind as he considered his future under female rule, under Julia.
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